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[RIGHT][color=afa3f5][sub]Tuesday, April 15th / Early Hours[/sub][/color][/RIGHT][hr][RIGHT][color=afa3f5][sup]13th Mourningdove Lane[/sup][/color][/RIGHT]

Emmy guessed that her question would go unanswered long before chaos erupted.

It was all becoming too much to bear. Her life was peaceful, filled with silences that stretched for hours unless she decided to put on some music or venture out of her home. This meeting, though she had no expectations when she first arrived, had somehow gotten far too loud too quickly.

Happy's playful banter was a temporary relief. She found herself resisting a smile as she tried her best to listen to the introductions. Until his own introduction, and display of his magic, left her out right staring at him in awe. She had to quickly shut her mouth before he caught her looking at him like that.

But really, [i]starlight?[/i] [i]Soul[/i] perception?

If the others had mentioned their ability, it was quickly lost in Emmy's mental catalog as their group seemed to ignite.

The Frenchman seemed to notice something in the shadows. Emmy immediately felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise. As if his aggression towards the mysterious shadow trigged something instinctual within herself, too.

She found herself shifting towards Happy, who she now realized had been the one to move closer to her in the darkness before, as her head tilted back to look at the source of Lefebvre's unease.

Her eyes may have revealed her envy as she watched the figure become a man, who drifted towards the ground with ease like he'd had magic for years. Could this be...?

No. This man wouldn't have given his name if he was [i]The Archivist[/i].

Those intense eyes the color of violets made a sweep of the room. Calculated, observant, and perhaps amused. They lingered on Emmy for far longer than she expected them to. Her own eyes met his, the dark shade of green carrying a touch of curiosity to them as they narrowed. She came close to breaking eye contact first, but fortunately his gaze moved on before her cowardice could take hold.

[color=475ca0]“Will you fucking shut up for one minute?”[/color]

Emmy sucked in a sharp breath through her nose. The sudden outburst clamored through her head. She glanced Happy's way in the hopes that she could hide her startled reaction with a smart quip, but it seemed the woman that had been muttering beat her to it.

[color=deb887]“I’m sorry, I’m Pom.”[/color]

Followed by another named Rowan, who also apologized for absolutely no reason at all.

Emmy gave Happy an exasperated grin instead as her eyes crinkled in amusement. [color=7B68EE]"This is... an interesting group."[/color] She whispered as Pom went on about her ruined pie, proffering it to the intensity that was Azure. At least the moment of misunderstanding offered her a chance to recenter herself.

She glanced towards the scene playing out before them, and her eyes travelled around the room. She tried to put faces to names that had been offered and only managed to match a few. Her eyes lingered on Rowan in the back of the room. She recognized her from the library, years ago. Another old acquaintance had seemed to be involved with magic as well. After a second of thought, it looked like a few other locals were here too. Emmy had seen the one that startled her around the docks a few times, and she'd been served by Pom at Norm's Diner on the rare occasion that her father decided to venture to support Norman Jefferies' daughter Shelly.

The lights flicked off once more, and Emmy then turned her head towards the entrance to see who else had arrived late for the meeting. The room was once more illuminated, followed by the distinct sound of heavy feet travelling across the marble flooring. The newest addition arrived, and Emmy found herself smiling softly at the sight of another pie in their hands.

[color=7B68EE]"Apple or cherry?"[/color] She asked Happy under her breath.

The smell of apple and lake water reached her nose before he could answer her.

Lena's smile may have been genuine, but Emmy cringed a little as her joke didn't land as well as the fireball's owner had intended.

In fact, Emmy resisted the urge to show her disappointment in the early night's events for the next five minutes. Her gaze followed The Archivist through every movement. She'd guessed he was Elven after she'd seen the multitude of artifacts and art that filled the mansion with historical prestige. She wasn't surprised by his stature, his height and features practically screamed Elf.

Though he was nothing like her mother had been. This man exuded what every rich, academically excelled, and pompous Elf carried on their shoulders.

[i]Pride.[/i]

While she bit her tongue about his comment on [i]timekeeping[/i], like she wasn't literally a walking clock, she couldn't control her reaction when those condescending eyes travelled her way. She stood a little taller, stuck out her chin just a bit, and her eyes seemed to challenge him to look down on her. She didn't like the way this man spoke to them, looked at them, and instantaneously decided that none of them were worth his time.

Lena's musing and Jackson's rebuttal to The Archivist's statements did little to ease Emmy's mood. She did have to applaud them for getting such a busy man to stand still for longer than a second, though.

Emmy took a breath as her gaze flickered around the room.

Since this Archivist presented himself in such a rude way, she considered leaving before he could spew more insults their way, but then it would gnaw at her forever that she didn't find out why this man had invited them all there. Especially now that it seemed he had extensive knowledge on magic, given his crude appraisal of what magic had brought him.

She could hold her tongue to let the others ask their questions first. Let them pull the pertinent information out of him as she listened and drew her own conclusions. Perhaps she could remain a quiet observer for the rest of the night in the hopes that she would avoid his scrutinizing gaze. He definitely wouldn't be happy to learn that her magic was as unstable as her blood pressure. Considering the letter he sent her, and it's specific phrasing, she had a hunch he already knew.

So, why should she bother to stay silent? Why shy away from this obvious challenge? She came here for answers, after all, and it seemed like most of this group wasn't going to hold back either.

She was just about to take the lead, ask the first question, but the Frenchman beat her to it. She was shocked to hear the flick of a lighter, and could only watch as he lit up a cigarette inside of this centuries old mansion. Were those... claws?

[i]Did he seriously just put out his cigarette on the floor?[/i]

The scent of nicotine and burnt paper reached her nose and only made her headache worse. Especially after the Lefebvre revealed a very personal piece of information about his awakening. He did ask one of the questions Emmy had been wondering. How did The Archivist know what magic they possessed? Where they [i]lived[/i]?

 A few more of her own questions were brought up by the young man with the dirty tongue. This time the admission struck a chord within her. She empathized with his lack of control, and was even grateful to hear that she wasn't the only one struggling with it. Her gloved hands moved to clasp in front of her once more, as she prepared for more questions to be hurled towards their host.

Emmy chose to wait, then, and could only hope that all of her questions would be asked and answered without drawing The Archivist's attention her way.